


A Coming Out Story

by Charlie Snow (Algedonic)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Bisexuality, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Character Study, Coming Out, M/M, Queer Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16858747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Algedonic/pseuds/Charlie%20Snow
Summary: Sam goes on a date. Then he comes out.





	A Coming Out Story

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted on tumblr](http://topbuckys.tumblr.com/post/91487280429/sam-doesnt-have-a-big-coming-out-there-are-no)

Sam doesn’t have a big  _coming out_. There are no tears, there’s no yelling, no one breaks anything or slams any doors or says anything they regret later on.

He gets home late one night - later than he’s technically supposed to, but Dad’s on a hunt and Dean doesn’t care as much about his curfew as he does about the fact that  _Sam has a date_  - and is rummaging around in the kitchen looking for something to eat when Dean sneaks up out of nowhere and scares the holy shit out of him.

“Boo,” Dean says, amused, and Sam glares.

“Hilarious.” Sam says, tingly adrenaline feeling just starting to fade from his limbs.

“How was your date?”

“Wasn’t a date, dude.”

“Shut up, you went out for food and a movie, it was totally a date. When do I get to meet her? When are you gonna  _tell_  me about her? Come on man, you gotta give me something here.”

Sam rolls his eyes, decides on a sandwich cause some not-quite-expired turkey and a lone rubbery kraft single are about the only things in the fridge. He’s pretty sure there’s bread somewhere.

It’s not like he’s been  _hiding_  from Dean, really. He just. Never really had any reason to tell him, before. Now though… it  _w_ _as_  sort of a date. And he likes Ryan - his name is Ryan and he’s a year older than Sam and he’s smart and funny and doesn’t ask too many questions and wraps his arm around Sam’s waist and kisses his face and holds his hand like he doesn’t care who sees - enough that there’s another sort-of-a-date happening in a couple days, and yeah. Maybe Dean should know. Maybe it’s time.

“You don’t get to meet  _her_  ever. There is no her.” Sam spreads mayo on the slightly crusty bread and doesn’t look at Dean and tries to will his heart to stop racing. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. Dean. Dean won’t care. Dean’s open minded. Supportive. For all his annoying little personality quirks, he’s Sam’s big brother. A  _good_  big brother. The only one Sam’s got, yeah, but secretly Sam’s pretty sure he couldn’t have asked for a better one.

The legs of the chair opposite him scrape on the cracked linoleum and Dean sprawls and says, “It’s not a date if you take  _yourself_  out, Sam.”

Sam piles turkey on his bread and looks at Dean, raises an eyebrow.

Dean frowns, his eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out what he hasn’t figured out and then he gets it. “Oh.  _Oh!_  Wait, what? Since when?”

Sam can’t help smiling a little as he slaps his sandwich together and takes a bite. “I dunno, Dean,” he says with his mouth half full, swallows, “there’s some debate about nature versus nurture, but-”

Dean kicks him under the table. “Shut up, asshat, you know what I mean.”

Sam shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich. “Like a year, I guess. I mean. I think maybe always? But I figured out what it meant like a year ago.”

“Huh,” Dean says, thoughtfully.

Sam stares at him and Dean stares at the ceiling, rubbing his chin absently like he’s some sort of tv detective sussing out the hidden details of a case. “Seriously, Dean? I tell you I’m dating a boy and all you can say is ‘huh’?”

“Ah-ha!” Dean says, gleefully, pointing an accusatory finger in Sam’s direction. “It  _was_  a date!”

“Oh my god. You’re impossible.”

“But it was a date.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but can’t help smiling a little. “It was a date. But seriously, Dean. I need something other than 'huh’. This isn’t like… it’s not a  _phase,_  or whatever.”

Dean shrugs, looking Sam in the eye. “I don’t care if you like boys or girls or both or neither, Sam. I’m just - it makes sense.” Sam scowls and Dean holds up a hand, eyes widening just a little, “Not like that! No, I just mean. I don’t know. I think I knew, on some level? And I’m not sure why it took you this long to tell me, but really, Sammy. As long as they treat you right it’s fine in my book.”

Sam lets out a breath and nods, a little ball of tension he didn’t even know he’d been carrying around loosening in his belly. “It’s both, by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean grins. “Do I get to meet your boyfriend?”

“Absolutely not. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’re dating though.”

“Shut up. No.”

“Saaam, come onnn. You have to let me meet him.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

It’s not a big deal. There are no tears, no yelling or misunderstanding or disbelief. Sam’s luckier than a lot of people, he knows, and he’s grateful that even though his life seems to be one ridiculous crisis after another,  _this_  is simple. This is  _easy_. That Dean will still grin and call him bitch and shove him into things just to laugh at him, still ruffle his hair and spar with him and not treat him any differently than he did  _before_.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. For. You know.”

Dean smiles. It’s soft and fond and the kind of smile that Sam only really sees directed at him, and it makes him all warm on the inside and he kind of wants to hug Dean, would, even, if there weren’t a table in the way. “You don’t have to thank me, Sammy. You’re my little brother.”

“Yeah, I know,” he shrugs, “still. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he flicks a crumb at Sam across the table, “bitch.”

Sam flings a piece of turkey in Dean’s direction, grinning.

“Jerk.”


End file.
